


my heart is a weapon of war

by princessmeganerd



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Car Chases, Cunnilingus, F/F, F/M, Face-Sitting, Fake AH Crew, Immortal Fake AH Crew, M/M, Multi, Robbery, if you want your ship to be canon in this it is, mica dies but not for permanent, the crew is one big polyamorous mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-22
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-07-25 23:35:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7551496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princessmeganerd/pseuds/princessmeganerd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mica joins the Fake AH Crew, and she is determined to prove herself worthy. Meg is determined to be around her a lot, for some reason.</p>
            </blockquote>





	my heart is a weapon of war

**Author's Note:**

> Let's get turnt for Turnton!
> 
> For real, though, that should be the ship name. We still have time, guys, let's make that catch on.

Mica Burton had only died twice.

It was embarrassing, really. The first time, she’d been just twenty-one years old, naive and convinced of her own invincibility. Ironically, she was one of the few people in the world who actually was invincible. Well, immortal. She could still get injured. She could still get injured like a _motherfucker_.

The first time, it had hurt. It had been almost silly. She just hadn’t been careful enough, and she’d gotten hit by a car while crossing the street. Who knew how many bones she’d broken, or what the odds were of her landing somewhere no one could reach her, or why the driver had never stopped to see if she was alright.

Slowly bleeding to death had really goddamn ruined her day. But at least she’d known for sure it was death; the worst feeling in the world had been realizing she was beyond help, and the best feeling had been waking up.

The second time, she was twenty-four, though she still looked twenty-one, and always would. She was drunk, and she was at the wrong club. 

She’d gotten in by pulling a trick she loved: picking a name off the guest list (they were never really secured so well online) and trying to act as much like the person as possible. The trick was to pick someone who didn’t go to the club very often, and picking short girls usually helped, but she had gotten good enough with her costuming that she could pull off a wide range of people.

Tonight she’d gone to a club that she knew was tied up with the Los Santos crime scene. Maybe it was stupid to be out looking for trouble when she didn’t know for sure if she was immortal or if she’d just been given one more chance, but there she was, dressed to the nines and ready to fight anyone who gave her shit.

Unfortunately, she’d thrown one punch and gotten shot in the stomach. It was downright unsporting. Her last words had been some unintelligible stream of curses, and her last sight had been a man in a tux gasping in horror.

The man had still been there when she woke.

“Who the fuck are you?” she croaked, sitting up.

“Jesus christ!” he yelled. Mica had genuinely scared him, and she couldn’t help but giggle. She was alive, and she could apparently pull one hell of a party trick. 

“Chill, dude. I, um, I do that.”

“Fucking hell.” He scrubbed at one eye.

“Man, are you crying?”

“No!” he protested. “Maybe I’m crying in relief that I don’t actually have to search your body to call your fuckin’ family and tell them you’re dead.”

“Saves you a hassle,” Mica said absently, looking down at her torso. Aww, damn. The gunshot had absolutely ruined her shirt. Should’ve worn a crop top. 

“Here’s a coincidence,” said the man, standing up and offering her a hand. “I do that too.”

It took Mica a second to work out what he meant. 

“Dude!” She held up her hand. “Immortality high five!” The man stared at her for a full five seconds before breaking into heaving laughter.

“You’ll fit in fine,” he said finally. 

“Fit in where?”

“I’m Geoff Ramsey. Of the Fake AH Crew?” He said it like he wasn’t sure, but Mica gasped and clapped her hands.

“Oh, man! This is your club, then, isn’t it?”

“Yes. And before you say anything, I am really, really sorry you got shot. Dude had no business bringing a gun in here. I have very clear rules. And people just shouldn’t shoot random women.”

“You’d better have banned him.”

“I take these things very seriously. I killed him.”

“Good,” said Mica, surprising herself with how much she meant it. “He had it coming.”

“So, I’m Geoff, and you are…?”

“Oh, I’m Mica!”

“Nice to meet you, Mica. Do you want to come meet my crew?”

-

Maybe dying hadn’t been enough of a lesson in not talking to strange men, because Mica agreed to go with Geoff almost without a second thought. Then again, he was famous. His crew was legendary, and as Geoff explained that they were all immortal, Mica began to understand why.

They had been together since the early twentieth century, though some of them had been alive for longer. Though he didn’t put it in so many words, Mica got the impression that Geoff had just sort of accumulated people over the years- like a cat lady, but for reckless immortal criminals.

Mica wasn’t a (professional) criminal herself, so she’d only ever really seen shaky news footage of the Fakes. After Geoff had led her to a bright pink sports car (her kind of ride, goddamn), she’d done a little bit of surreptitious googling. Geoff Ramsey, the leader, was the one who sat beside her, fiddling with his car radio and humming. There were five others who Mica was able to find faces and names for easily, but the articles and reports she skimmed seemed to hint at a whole cast of miscreants.

Suddenly she was a little nervous.

Her nerves only increased when Geoff pulled up to a very fucking fancy building, whose doorman looked like he could snap both of their necks with one hand. He nodded to Geoff like it was a Tuesday morning and like Mica didn’t have a blood-soaked and bullet-riddled shirt on. 

Once they were in the elevator, Geoff turned to Mica, looking very tired and put-upon all of a sudden. He let out a long sigh.

“So I’m assuming you’ve heard of us. Scary-ass dudes who do crime.” Mica nodded. “In reality, we’re… well. We’re kind of a mess. Don’t blame me for anything stupid that they say to you.”

“I’m sure it’s not that bad,” Mica tried to reassure him. He smiled and shook his head.

“That politeness is gonna get squashed real fast.”

The elevator doors opened, and Mica got hit with a paper airplane.

“Whoops!” The culprit was British, which instantly identified him to Mica as Gavin Free, the crew’s notoriously flashy Golden Boy. “Sorry, didn’t know you were bringing home company!” He hopped down from where he’d been standing on the top of a leather couch, silhouetted against the Los Santos skyline through gigantic windows.

“Who the fuck is this?” asked his companion, whose brown leather jacket and sharp tongue led Mica to believe he was Michael Jones, demolition expert and fighter. Unlike Gavin, he didn’t bother to get off the furniture he was standing on, which was the kitchen counter. From the scattered paper planes, Mica guessed they’d been throwing them at each other.

“This the fuck is Mica,” said Geoff. “She’s immortal, too.” 

“You found someone else?” came a third voice from somewhere Mica couldn’t see. A woman with blue hair popped up from behind the couch, where she must have been lying. Mica wouldn’t’ve admitted it, but seeing another woman put her slightly more at ease. Not that Meg Turney was the type to put people at ease. Dollface was famous, too, though not as part of the crew. Mica wondered if her presence meant she was a secret Fake AH member.

“Found her, more like she got fucking obliterated in front of me.” Gavin and Meg came over to stand in front of them, and Mica got her first real look at them. Both of them were pretty damn attractive, especially in person. Both of them had incredible eyeliner game.

“Obliterated like drunk or obliterated obliterated?” asked Michael.

“Obliterated obliterated,” said Geoff, his voice turning dark. “In my fucking club!” It occurred to Mica that she was probably lucky Geoff didn’t know she’d snuck into the club instead of paying to get in.

“Did you-”

“Yes, I killed the fucker who shot her. Luckily Mica here is immortal and he’s not.”

“So is she going to join up?” asked Gavin. Mica turned to look at Geoff, confused.

“Jesus, Gavin. I was going to wait until I’d known her more than five minutes to ask her to join our gang.”

“Oh!” Mica ran a hand through her hair. “Um, thank you for considering me?” The situation was starting to feel like a mix of a job interview and a party where she didn’t know anyone. 

Meg came a little closer to her and put a hand on her shoulder. She somehow smelled expensive, like she had an entire shelf of five hundred dollar perfumes just lying around

“These guys always come on too strong,” she said kindly, smirking when Michael yelled a “Hey!” from the back of the room. “You don’t have to do shit you’re not comfortable with. That being said, we’ll totally be, like, your immortal friends if nothing else.” Mica nodded. “What do you do?” 

“I’m a waitress.” 

“Oh, Jesus fucking Christ.” Michael finally moved, vaulting off his perch and crossing his arms. Up close, he sported freckles and bruises, both of which seemed to suit him just as much as the other two’s makeup. “She’s a fuckin’ baby.”

“I am not!” Mica spluttered. “Just because I haven’t robbed a bank or whatever doesn’t mean I have no life experience. And it doesn’t mean I can’t learn!” Where was this coming from? Two hours ago she’d just been trying to have a good time.

“Ooh, I like her.” Meg reached up to readjust her bun. “I think you’re being too harsh, Michael. We all started somewhere.” 

Mica’s life just had taken a very rapid turn, or maybe it had turned when she had died the second time, or the first, or maybe it had always been going this way. Whatever the case may be, she hadn’t been this excited or this scared in years. What did she have to lose? 

She went out looking for adrenaline highs most weekends anyways. She may as well make money and friends out of it.

“We just have to ask the boss,” said Geoff. 

“I thought you were the boss,” said Mica, wondering if her googling had been incorrect. Geoff snorted.

“Good to hear that’s what the public still thinks. But no. It’s been a long time since I had to deal with any of the logistical bullshit, thank god. The incomparable Lindsay Jones is in charge here.”

“That’s my wife!” exclaimed Michael. Mica blinked.

“I kind of thought you were with Gavin,” she admitted. All four of them grinned at that.

“It’s all kind of a polyamorous mess around here,” said Gavin, nonchalant. “Hope you don’t have a problem with that.” 

“Dude, you kill people,” said Mica. “If I was gonna have a problem with anything, it would be that.”

“We only kill jerks, to be clear,” Meg piped up. “Killing innocent people is not actually super fun.”

“I mean, you know. I trust you as much as I do some of the authorities around here,” said Mica. “Either way, I’m fine with you kissing more than one person in your life.”

“She’s a keeper!” said Meg brightly. Mica gave her a shy smile, and Meg winked, making her heart flutter a little. Mica was a sucker for flirty girls.

“Anyway, Lindsay won’t be back until the morning. Do you want to stay here, or can we give you a ride someplace?” Looking around the apartment, Mica spotted central air conditioning, marble countertops, and crystalline light fixtures. She was no expert, but she was pretty sure this place was really nice. To say the least.

“I’ll stay here,” she decided. “After all, what’re you going to do, murder me in my sleep?”

-

Lindsay Jones was one of the most terrifying and beautiful women Mica had ever met, even more terrifying than Meg, or Jack, who she’d shown up with, covered in blood and dirt, at 7:15am. 

“Sorry we’re late,” said Jack, dumping a bag of cash on the table. “There was traffic.”

Mica peeked out of the spare bedroom she’d stayed in, which boasted no unusual features besides a few knives stuck into the wall from what Gavin called “an experiment.” 

“Honestly, I’d rather you were gone longer so I could sleep in,” Geoff griped, but his voice belied the tenderness with which he grabbed Jack and pulled her in for a tight hug. Mica bit back an aww and ducked back into her room, wishing she had more than basic makeup to put on. Though Lindsay didn’t seem to be wearing any makeup under the grime, Mica wanted to put her best face forward.

She bemoaned her lack of a second outfit, but at least she’d had time to cut the torn part out of her shirt with one of the knives. After a few finger-combs through her hair, she was ready to go.

By this time, Lindsay, Geoff, and Jack were sitting at the counter and drinking coffee. Jack was frowning at the footprints Michael must’ve left last night. Geoff spotted Mica immediately and waved her over.

“There you are. Lindsay, Jack, meet Mica- she’s immortal.”

“Nice to meet you.” Lindsay stuck out a hand, and Mica rushed to shake it.

“She got killed in front of me, so I thought the least I could do would be to kill her murderer and bring her to meet the family.”

“Oh shit, dude, that sucks.” Lindsay took a sip of her coffee. 

“I want to join the crew,” Mica blurted, once it became evident that Geoff wasn’t going to say anything. Being assertive was something you were supposed to do in an interview, right? Hadn’t she read that on Buzzfeed or something?

Lindsay raised one eyebrow. Mica felt like she was being x-rayed.

“I don’t have too many skills, but I’m willing to learn. I can’t fire a gun, but I also can’t die. Besides…” Mica waved her hands to indicate everyone in the apartment. “I think you could use someone just a touch more polite around here.”

Mica held her breath. Either Lindsay was about to have her escorted out, or…

“Damn, check out the balls on this one,” she said between giggles. “Okay, kid, you’re our new crime intern. Unfortunately we can’t offer college credit.”

“I was a theatre major, anyway.”

“So was Ryan,” said Jack, and then clapped a hand over her mouth. “Shit, I probably wasn’t supposed to tell you that.”

“Who’s Ryan?”

“You’ll see.” Geoff chuckled darkly.

“Anyways, Mica, we reserve the right to kick you out if you can’t take it.” Lindsay locked eyes with her. “I won’t have anyone slowing down the crew, and more importantly I can’t have you taking more damage than you give, you know?”

“I understand.” She understood that this was a challenge- and no way was she going to fail that challenge. She stood up as straight as possible.

“Great. Welcome aboard.”

-

So Mica’s life got flipped, turned upside down… no, fuck, those were the lyrics to the Fresh Prince theme song. 

So Mica’s life changed dramatically. She quit her job without a second’s hesitation the day after joining the crew, flipping off her jerk manager and stealing an entire espresso machine for the hell of it. 

Michael gave her a high five when she lugged it to the penthouse, and they spent an enjoyable afternoon figuring out how to work it and testing the limits of how much caffeine they could stand. They were soon joined by Jeremy Dooley, a recently promoted member of the crew, who alternated between gloating about how he was now the second shortest member of the crew and trying to match Michael espresso shot for shot.

She met the B-Team, which she supposed she was now a part of. They were less flashy than the main crew, but Mica had no doubts they were just as deadly and competent. They all took her out for drinks one night, doing a bar crawl of all the places the crew owned. 

Suddenly the world felt like her playground. She still took precautions, but now she felt more like people should be scared of her than the other way around. No one knew she was part of the crew yet, but she carried the knowledge around with her like a pair of designer sunglasses. 

She was different; she was cool; she saw everything in a new way.

-

At first, she was mostly put on lookout duty, which was where she found out that Meg was not a member of the crew, just a sort of crime family friend. Still, it seemed like she had been put in charge of overseeing Mica’s training or something, because she was around a lot. 

“You’re serious? They don’t always make foundation in your shade?”

“Go to any beauty store and check. It’s always eight shades of cream and one random brown.” Mica drummed her fingers on the steering wheel, keeping an eye on the darkened doorway they were watching.

“That is bullshit! I can’t believe I never thought about it before.”

“Oh, shit, there he is.” A figure had darted out from the doorway. He was wearing a hoodie and a ski mask (tacky AND overkill, what a combination), and luckily he hadn’t seemed to notice them. He was huddled around a suspicious bundle.

“I’ll be right back,” said Meg. She slipped out of the car- somehow she made even that look graceful- and in a matter of seconds she was behind her unsuspected victim. With neat, fluid movements, she had him helpless and pinned, dropping his bundle of stolen Fake AH explosives and shaking. Once the element of surprise had been lost, Mica drove the few feet over and rolled down the window.

“Y-you’re not Fake AH!” he was saying. Mica wondered how stupid he had to be to try to steal from the Fakes in the first place, let alone to talk back to Meg.

“Let’s just say I’m fake Fake AH,” Meg sneered. “And let’s just say I am about to let you off with a warning-” he sobbed in relief- “But your crew has just royally pissed us off. Yes, we know who you are, _Nicholas_. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good boy. Scamper along. Let’s go.” The last sentence was directed at Mica, who gave her a thumbs up and revved the engine. Meg picked up the explosives with much less care than Mica would have expected, but then again, the worst thing they’d lose if it went off was the car, or maybe their outfits.

“That was awesome!” Mica said honestly. “I was waiting for you to break one of his fingers or something.”

“He’s too small, I just threw him back in the pond,” said Meg dismissively, but she seemed to enjoy the praise. “I can show you how to break fingers, if you want.”

“As long as you don’t demonstrate on me.”

“Hah. You weren’t so bad yourself.”

“I just drove, like, eight feet.”

“That’s more than Gavin can do.”

-

It was Gavin who taught her how to fire a gun, after letting her get knocked back from the recoil once and laughing his ass off. They were at a very sketchy shooting range that Mica suspected did not check identities whatsoever.

“You’re an asshole.”

“Oh, come off it. I’m teaching you important munitions safety.” He idly pulled out his gun, and Mica let out a shocked laugh when she saw that it was, apparently, gold-plated.

“Holy shit, that’s real, isn’t it.” Gavin smirked.

“Of course it is, love,” he said, winking. Mica found herself momentarily entranced by his smile and his eyeliner before he relaxed and giggled. Damn, that was a neat trick.

“You’re not convincing me you’re not an asshole.” Gavin shrugged and took a few shots at the target, with mixed results. Mica had honestly seen people do better at country fair games, and told Gavin so.

“Whatever, I’m not the brawn,” he said flippantly.

“I guess you’re the beauty.”

“Yeah,” he admitted. “I’m happy to let Geoff and Lindsay do the brains thing.” Mica frowned at the mention of Lindsay.

“I haven’t seen Lindsay since the day I met her. Does she not like me?”

“No, no, she’s just busy, I wouldn’t bother your pretty little head about it.”

“I thought you were the pretty one.”

“Yeah, watch your back, Burton. Really, though, I’m sure she likes you fine. We just don’t all have time to train newbies.” Gavin paused and laughed a little to himself. “Except Meg, who has just oodles of time, apparently.” 

There was something in his tone that Mica couldn’t read, but she couldn’t tell if it was good or bad. She decided not to worry about it, and thumbed the safety off her gun to try again.

If Gavin had a gold gun, maybe she could get a pink one.

-

Jeremy and Michael were all too enthusiastic about teaching her how to spar. 

“I used to be a brawler, you know,” Jeremy bragged. Mica ignored him, trying to break his latest hold and leverage his weight against him.

“Shit, why can’t I just skip to punching you in the face.”

“Because sometimes you’ll be in a situation where you get overpowered. You see-” Mica cut him off mid-sentence with an elbow to the gut and broke free. She swung at his face, stopping just before she actually connected. He flinched, then blushed. “Alright, ya got me.”

“Damn, nice one,” said Michael from where he was lounging on the couch. “Not that it’s hard to beat Lil J.” Jeremy whipped around to glare at him, and he grinned. 

“You wanna fucking go, Jones?”

“I’m just saying.”

“Let’s go!”

“Damn, calm down.” Jeremy marched over to Michael and dragged him up by the shirt collar until they were face to face. If both of them hadn’t looked like they were having fun, Mica might have been slightly concerned.

“Are you gonna do this Jersey style? Are shirts coming off?” Mica called. 

“No, shirts do not come off-” Michael started, but Jeremy had already started pulling at the bottom as well as the collar. Michael rolled his eyes, but he let Jeremy do it. “If you wanted to see me naked, Dooley, you could have just asked.”

“This is a serious training demonstration,” Jeremy insisted, pulling his own shirt off. “Besides, you’re a punk-ass bitch who insulted my honor.” 

“Oh, one does not simply call Mogar a punk-ass bitch!” 

The two of them squared off and circled each other for a minute before Jeremy attempted the first blow. Mica wolf-whistled, but she watched their techniques carefully. Half of her crew training seemed to come from simply observing and making mental notes.

Eventually, Jeremy had Michael pinned with his arms over his head and his glasses askew. Both were laughing and breathing heavily.

“Always take off your glasses before getting in a fight,” said Meg, making Mica jump.

“When did you get here?”

“About halfway through this homoerotic shitshow.” Meg twirled a strand of hair around a finger. “Never trust people from the East Coast, it’ll always end up like this.”

“In a lovers’ embrace?”

“No, in a stupid pride fight. Honor is a silly thing to fight about; I have no problem with the homoerotic part.”

“Me neither,” said Mica. Meg leaned a little closer to her, half-lowering her eyelids, which concentrated Mica’s attention remarkably. 

“That’s good to hear,” Meg practically purred. Meg licked her lips, and Mica wondered if she would have died then and there if she hadn’t been immortal. Mercifully, Meg pulled back and looked back at Jeremy and Michael. Mica followed suit to see that Jeremy and Michael were indeed kissing now.

“Will this be on the test?” Mica deadpanned, amused. Both of them jumped guiltily. 

“I’m sorry,” said Jeremy.

“I’m not,” said Michael.

“Alright, Mica, you wanna give these two some space and come meet Ryan with me?” Mica perked up at the mention of the mysterious Ryan, who was the only crew member she’d seen less than Lindsay.

“Ryan? The Vagabond? The Mad King? Absolutely.”

“God, good luck with that,” said Jeremy.

“He’s a sweetheart, really,” said Meg. Michael made a skeptical hmph at that. “I swear!”

Mica thought she could use all the luck she could get.

-

It turned out that by “meet Ryan,” Meg had meant “be the getaway driver in a robbery.”

Meg left her sitting parked outside the jewelry store with no estimate for how long it would take, so Mica spent about twenty-four minutes more anxious than she had been in months. She wanted to google how long robberies usually took.

It was a relief to see Meg and Ryan bolt out of the store, each wearing masks and carrying a gun and a duffel bag that was presumably full of cash or jewelry. Both of them had barely squeezed into the backseat before Mica took off.

“Thanks, Mica,” said Meg. “We should be good-” A shot shattered the back window of the car, making both Mica and Meg scream.

“God, you two are loud,” said Ryan, inappropriately calm. In the rear view mirror, Mica saw that he wore his signature black skull mask. There was no way to tell how he was feeling. Meg had pulled off her mask before Mica could see it, but she still had on a green wig.

“Mica, could you hurry it up a little?” asked Meg. 

“I’m fucking flooring it!”

“We need to take evasive maneuvers,” said Ryan. “Are either of you familiar with this area at all?”

“Nooope!” Mica yelled. She was aware that she was probably ruining her first impression, but her voice went up an octave with every siren and gunshot.

“Shit. Uh, take a right.” Mica made a hairpin turn, nearly mowing over a stop sign. 

“This is not going as well as you promised, Ry.”

“Shit happens.”

Mica made another right, blowing through a red light. Panic was subsiding into something more like an adrenaline high, and she let out a slightly hysterical laugh. 

Somehow Ryan seemed to think it was a good idea to go through his haul at this moment. Mica nearly let herself be distracted by what looked to be a diamond tiara before she wrenched her eyes back to the road.

They passed a few buildings Mica thought she might recognize. Didn’t she once eat at that bakery? She struggled with her bearings for a few seconds. Bakery… that one gym… wait.

“Um, guys-”

“That’s the police station!” roared Ryan. Mica felt sick; she was driving straight towards it.

“Oh, fuck,” breathed Meg. 

“Mica, what the hell?” Ryan growled.

“Hey, this was your idea!”

“What?!”

“You said you knew this area!”

“I never said that! I was just making a decision-”

“I never said I knew this area either!”

“Guys!” Meg yelled. “This is not the time to have a- a squabble! Mica, _turn around_!”

Mica made a hasty U-turn and willed the car to move faster somehow. It didn’t help that the wind was rushing through the shattered back windshield, or that she could feel Ryan glaring at her. She just barely avoided barreling into the police cars that had been hot on their trail, and searched for any possible avenue of escape. 

Mind racing, she picked a street at random. They hurtled around more turns than she could count, constantly aware of any flashing lights or loud noises, until they came to a raised section of road. That gave Mica an idea.

She grit her teeth and didn’t let herself hesitate before vaulting the car into the lower road that flanked the raised section, barely sliding into traffic going the other way. They matched pace with the cars around them before Mica skidded to a stop, cutting off a minivan that honked at her.

“Get out!” she ordered. Luckily, Meg and Ryan obeyed without question. Mica marched up to the window of the minivan and held out her hand.

“Meg, give me your gun.” Meg handed over a small pistol that Mica hadn’t even known she was carrying. “Thanks.” She pointed the gun at the driver of the minivan, whose hands instantly shot into the air. Mica gestured for them to get out, and they complied. 

Mica felt sort of bad for them, but not bad enough to not steal their car. “Listen. I’ll leave this car near the university campus tonight, okay? You’re gonna have to get an Uber right now. Sorry, buddy.” When it became clear they weren’t going to resist, she climbed into the driver’s seat and unlocked the back doors for her companions. “Oh, and if you tell the police where I’m going to leave your car, you are not getting it back.”

They nodded so fast they looked like a bobblehead. Mica didn’t really have time to spare them a second glance as she left them in the dust.

Within a few minutes, the sirens seemed to be spreading out, not entirely gone but seemingly lost. Mica tentatively let herself relax a little.

“I thought you said she was a rookie,” said Ryan, still too calm.

“She is!” Meg’s voice had jumped to a giggly and high-pitched register that Mica had never heard before. “Mica, that was awesome!”

“It was alright.” Meg smacked Ryan’s shoulder. 

“Ryan! She is so impressive!” 

“Alright, Doll, alright. You were right about her.” 

Mica felt incredible. She was high on a cocktail of relief and victory, and it was better than any of the drugs she’d ever tried. Robbery probably wasn’t what people meant by getting high on life, but hey, it felt good to be bad. Meg looked to be in similar spirits, a funny contrast to Ryan’s grim skull.

“Put on some music, girl!” Mica whooped and set about figuring out the stereo.

As luck would have it, the radio was just starting “Don’t Stop Believin’”. Meg and Mica sang at the top of their lungs as Ryan put his head in hands.

“Cheer up, Ryan! We got a great haul.”

Meg directed Mica to a crew safe house on the opposite side of the city, and they got there with no further incident. Once inside, Meg and Ryan unceremoniously dumped their bags out on the table. Mica couldn’t help but be impressed.

“Oh, we did get a tiara,” Meg noted. “Mica, c’mere.” She placed the crown carefully on Mica’s head, fussing until it looked good. “There, you can keep that. I dub thee the Mad Queen.” Mica raised her eyebrows.

“Seems sort of like I might be stepping on someone else’s intellectual property.” 

Meg fluttered her eyelashes at Ryan innocently. He didn’t move.

“Do you have a problem with it, Ry?” He stared at them silently for so long that Mica wondered if he’d fallen asleep under the mask. 

“It’s fine,” he said finally, turning to leave. Mica let out her breath.

Just before he got to the door, Ryan turned back and slowly removed his mask. His face was covered in a smudged face paint skull, and he looked deathly serious.

“But Burton, I am keeping an eye on you.” 

There was a brief pause between Ryan shutting the door behind him and Meg bursting into laughter.

“Oh, I think he likes you.”

-

After about three months of crew training, Mica was itching for something more. Her robbery with Team Free Slay had been the most exciting thing she’d done so far, and she was getting a little tired of “How To Do Inventory with Jack and Geoff.”

She and Jack were cleaning their guns one day when Lindsay walked into the penthouse wearing snappy suit and a sleek ponytail. Mica felt like she should salute or something.

“What’s up, y’all,” said Lindsay, scrolling through her phone. 

“Not much,” said Jack. “You here for your househusband?”

“Hopefully he’s kept dinner warm.” 

“Has Michael ever cooked something without burning it in his life?” 

“It’ll be a cold day in hell. Hey, Mica. Not burned out yet?”

“No, ma’am!” Mica exclaimed, making the “ma’am” sarcastic but half meaning it anyways. “The crew is awesome, honestly.”

“Glad to hear it, yo.” Lindsay looked back at her phone, and Jack went back to cleaning her gun. Mica kept stealing glances at Lindsay until Michael came out of the back room and everyone waved goodbye. 

She was fitting in fine, as Geoff had predicted on that fateful night, but she had never really been the type to be content with fitting in. She wanted to stand stand out. She wanted to impress Lindsay, more than anything- the more she got into the criminal world, the more she was convinced that Lindsay was the best in the biz.

The problem was that everyone was still too cautious with her. Jack and Geoff acted like parents most of the time, and the rest were understandably wrapped up in their own antics. Even the B-Team seemed to be working, like, twenty-three hours a day.

Meg, on the other hand…

-

“Wait, you want to do what?”

“I want to impress Lindsay,” Mica explained. “I’m tired of all this rote shit. I have to show her I’m better than just good enough.”

“Hmmm.” Meg flopped down onto her bed, having finished braiding Mica’s hair. They were having a girly sleepover at Meg’s suggestion, clad in pajamas and fresh nail polish. “Well, you gotta let me help you.”

“Deal,” said Mica instantly. “You wanna get in good with the boss lady too?”

“Yeah. And I just like spending time with you.” Meg sat up and hugged her from behind. Mica tried not to think about the warm heat of Meg’s breasts pressed against her back. “What exactly do you want to do?”

“Stop me if this is silly.” Mica turned around to look her in the eye. “You know how in movies people are always letting themselves down on wires to steal priceless artifacts from museums? Can we, like, literally do that?” Meg laughed.

“Fuck, I love that!”

“Great! Oh my gosh, we have to do cat burglar outfits.”

“Absolutely! Do you have a specific target in mind?”

Mica grinned and pulled out her phone. At first she’d read the news article about the world’s largest crystalline ruby being transported to Los Santos in an effort to keep up with world events, but she kept it now for a very different and much less mature reason. Meg frowned in concentration as she read the article, and Mica couldn’t help but notice how cute it was.

“You’re kidding me. This artist carved a giant ruby into the shape of a turd?”

“Yes!” Mica threw her arms in the air. “He called it a custard to throw off rich people, but he really meant it to be a piece of shit.”

“Mica, I have literally never wanted anything more.”

“It’s in the Los Santos Museum!” 

“I’d say we have to go get this tomorrow, but I want to make an outfit. Besides, I have a hair appointment.” Meg touched her roots self-consciously.

“Aww, you look beautiful,” said Mica, swatting Meg’s hand away. The motion left their faces uncomfortably close together, and Mica’s heart beat fast for a moment before the doorbell rang.

“That’s our food!” said Meg, springing up to answer the door. It was Mica’s turn to flop back onto the bed, wondering if she was imagining things.

-

It was really, really hard not to hum the Mission Impossible theme.

It was 5:55pm exactly on the last Sunday of the month, five minutes before closing time on the museum’s free admission day. Meg had chosen this day because the museum guards would be at their most tired and frazzled. 

Both of them were in an abandoned supply closet, fixing their wigs and makeup. Mica was feeling exactly like she used to before going out on stage for a play in college. The dressing-room atmosphere was probably helping a lot with that- they’d changed casually and efficiently in front of each other, Mica too excited to even glance.

Meg looked stunning in a latex catsuit and a black wig, and Mica had opted for a similar getup with a purple wig, though she’d also shoved a dress into her bag in case she had to look like not a criminal for any reason. They both sported elaborate stylized cat masks.

“We look fucking fantastic,” said Mica.

“Agreed. Let’s go over the plan one more time.”

“Okay. The ruby is in the modern art section, in a glass case that probably only has the one silent alarm that you disabled earlier. The doors are locked, so we’re getting in through a skylight that’s accessible from the roof. We can get to the roof from the Egyptian section, which is right near here.”

“Got it in one.” Mica started for the door, but Meg stopped her. She quickly kissed Mica’s cheek, making her blush. “Kiss for luck. And to show you how little this brand smudges.” Mica flicked out her mirror to see that her face was still flawless. 

“Damn,” she said, not sure if she was talking about the makeup or about Meg.

“Let’s go.”

They walked out into the hallway, casual as could be. The cameras had been taken down at the same time as the ruby’s alarm, but Mica still gave them nervous glances. 

The archway to the Egyptian wing was flanked by ancient columns, showcasing the usual hieroglyphs and such. Mica felt like a little kid for a moment surrounded by imposing sarcophagi and statues. The whole wing was quiet besides the click of their boots on the tile.

Meg hoisted herself up to the chosen window with ease, bracing herself with one arm and pushing the glass out with another. Mica got a pretty good view of her ass as she slipped through and turned to wait for Mica.

Embarrassingly, Mica scrabbled a little more than she’d hoped against the wall, but Meg made no comment, just making sure she was through before she shut the window and began slinking across the roof. It was tilted, but nothing even the less-athletic Mica couldn’t handle. 

They would have been pretty exposed if the window hadn’t overlooked a courtyard that featured several large trees, hopefully masking their motion from anyone who cared to look out from other museum windows. Mica got whipped in the face by a leaf, making Meg giggle, but it was a small price to pay for their perfect crime.

The window to the modern art exhibit gave them a great view of the room as well as a good entry point. They huddled carefully around the glass, making certain no one was dawdling there. It was very soon after closing time, since legitimately getting admission had been the easiest way to get in, but that also meant people might still be about.

“I’m satisfied,” said Meg finally, pulling a coil of pink climbing rope out of her bag and securing it to an outcropping on the roof. Meg eased open the window as Mica clipped the rope to her catsuit. Mica would go first as Meg let her down on the rope, then Meg would follow by shimmying down after.

Mica felt a swoop as she pushed off the windowsill and into the empty air, but it just added to her giddiness. She trusted Meg to let her down safely, and besides, this was just plain fun.

Her landing left grace to be desired, but she thought she was improving a little. At least she’d landed on her feet and not on her ass like she’d done on a few practice runs.

As Meg began her descent, Mica gave the room a cursory glance. There were some really avant-garde pieces here. The ruby was by far the most spectacular, even as it sat on top of a fake cone. 

A movement out of the corner of Mica’s eye had her freezing. Maybe it was just something from outside casting a shadow through the skylight- nope, now she was hearing footsteps. Shit.

Frantically, she waved her arms to get Meg’s attention, pointing at the door. Meg nodded, though she looked a little lost as to what to do. 

Fuck. Mica needed a plan, and she needed one now. Okay. Okay. She could do this. 

She tossed one end of the rope up at Meg, who caught it without blinking. Once she was sure Meg had it, Mica rifled through her bag for her dress. Thank god for quick costume changes, because Mica managed to slide the dress on and take off her mask and wig in record time. All the accessories got unceremoniously shoved behind a statue of a crying girl reading a phone in record time.

As a final touch, Mica threw herself onto the ruby’s case and began loudly sobbing. The footsteps increased from walking to running, and a security guard hurtled into the room. At the same time, a loud alarm started up. Looked like they had been wrong about the ruby’s security after all.

“Oh, thank goodness,” Mica whined, wiping her face dramatically. “I thought I was going to be locked in here forever!” Mica hoped her Southern accent wasn’t too rusty.

The security guard, whose hair was in a no-nonsense braid, stopped in her tracks. From where she was draped across the case, Mica saw a look of confusion cross her face. Good.

Mica crumpled to the floor, trying to stop the guard from looking up at all. It worked- the guard rushed to be by her side.

“How did you get in here, sweetie?” she asked. 

“Oh, I just got so lost,” Mica wailed. “I get these dizzy spells, you see- I’m not from around here, I just wanted to have a nice day at the museum. Oh, that noise is just hateful!” The guard nodded sympathetically, pulling her radio off her belt. 

“Russ, can we get the alarm in the modern art room disabled? Someone set it off by accident.” Mica had to hide her grin behind her hands. “Look- what’s your name?”

“Mabel.”

“Mabel. I’m gonna escort you out, okay? Do you need me to call 911?”

“Oh no, don’t you worry yourself, you angel.” Mica saw the woman relax, probably grateful she wouldn’t have to deal with a 911 call. Mica fanned her face. “I just need a glass of water.”

“Can do.” The woman offered her an arm, and Mica took it. She allowed herself to be led out, chattering away about how lovely Los Santos had been at this time of year and how silly she’d been not to bring a water bottle with her. 

If she saw Meg lower herself down behind them, she gave no sign of it.

-

They’d agreed to meet back at Mica’s apartment if anything went wrong- she didn’t care if it ended up getting connected to crime. That’d give her an excuse to ask Geoff for a new one.

As soon as Meg unlocked the door, Mica tackled her in a hug. 

“I’m so glad you’re okay!”

“You too! But thanks to you, we were never in danger.” Meg beamed at her. “Mica, how come you never told me what a great actress you are?” Mica shrugged.

“It didn’t seem relevant.”

“Burton, acting is like eighty percent of this job. It’s not all guns and scraped knees.”

“Oh.”

“If you wanted to impress Lindsay, I’d say that was a success.”

“I mean, did we get it?” Meg shrugged her bag off her shoulder and dumped it onto the bed. Mica noted with pleasure that she’d grabbed Mica’s abandoned wig and mask- and there it was, the world’s largest and most expensive ruby turd. Mica shrieked and hugged Meg again. “We are master criminals!”

“We make a great team,” said Meg, and this time Mica couldn’t resist kissing her.

Meg kissed back with enthusiasm, and they both laughed as they ruined each other’s makeup. 

“Finally,” Meg murmured as Mica moved her hair to kiss at her neck. “I was getting tired of flirting with you.”

“That’s a lie, you love flirting.”

“Okay, you got me there.” They made a unanimous decision to get onto the bed, and Meg had Mica’s dress off in a matter of seconds. Mica leaned down to kiss her, but Meg held up a hand.

“What-?” Meg reached behind them and carefully transferred the ruby to the bedside table. 

“Don’t want to accidentally push the product of our hard work onto the floor.”

“I’ll show you hard work.” It wasn’t Mica’s best improv, but Meg seemed to forgive her, reaching to unzip her catsuit. 

There was no sexy way to get out of a jumpsuit, so they both wrestled individually with their outfits for a minute before getting back to each other, this time in lingerie.

“You’re fancy, Turney,” Mica teased, pushing Meg down into the mattress before running a hand from her neck to her hip. “I like the lace.”

Meg only whined in response, grabbing Mica’s ass and lining their hips up. For a few minutes they both savored each other’s warmth and closeness, kissing every inch of face and neck that was available to them. 

Then Mica reached to undo Meg’s bra at the same moment that Meg’s hips thrust up towards hers. Meg was wearing a front-clasping number, and Mica appreciated that she didn’t have to wait for more complicated removal to fasten her lips around Meg’s nipple.

Meg had some of the best boobs Mica had ever seen, and Mica told her so as she switched to give attention to the other one. Meg just moved her hips more, seemingly happy with the compliment. 

Mica was pretty happy herself, and she was reluctant to move, but she sat up for a moment so that Meg could take off her bra too.

“God,” murmured Meg, giving her a two-handed squeeze before running her thumbs teasingly over Mica’s nipples. “Remember when we stole a giant ruby, like, two hours ago?” 

“We’re the best,” Mica agreed. “You looked so good in that catsuit. But you look even better now.” They kissed again, bare-chested and eager.

Meg guided them so that she was on top now, her knees pushing Mica’s legs apart beneath her. When she put her hand on Mica’s stomach, just above the band of her underwear, Mica couldn’t help but shiver. Meg hooked two fingers under the edge, and it took all of Mica’s self-restraint not to guide her closer faster. Instead, she simply moved her legs a little further up and admired the way Meg looked, teasing and mischievous.

Finally, mercifully, Meg’s fingers brushed over her clit, making her gasp with relief. It was easy for Meg to slick herself up, given Mica’s current state. For a while, Mica closed her eyes and let herself concentrate on Meg’s exploration.

“This is a terrible angle,” Meg complained. 

“It’s a terrible angle for some things,” Mica countered. “Pretty good for others.”

“Oh yeah?” asked Meg, pulling her fingers out of Mica’s panties and leaning down to kiss at her neck. “Like what?”

“Like maybe…” Meg started to work her way down Mica’s body, mouthing her nipples and scraping her teeth lightly on her ribcage. “It seems like you have a pretty good idea of what I mean.”

“I have no clue,” said Meg playfully, at this point poised so close to Mica’s crotch she could swear she could feel her breathing. 

“I mean you should eat me out. If you want,” said Mica, rolling her eyes. “That make you happy?”

“Oh, yes, it does.” Mica would have blushed if she hadn’t already been flustered and flushed to the maximum. 

Meg began without removing Mica’s underwear, which was right on the line of frustrating and satisfying. Mica ground her hips up into Meg’s face in protest. 

Seemingly content, Meg finally moved to take them off and got to the actual work of making Mica shudder and groan and grab desperately at the sheets.

“Ah, shit, Meg,” Mica panted. “This is- you’re so good.” Meg gave her hip a squeeze, not pausing to respond verbally.

Meg’s technique would have had Mica enthusiastic even if she hadn’t teased her for so long. She had to have some kind of psychic power to know exactly how and when to move her tongue, or more likely a lot of experience. Either way, she had Mica on the edge before she knew it.

Meg rode out Mica’s stuttering thrusts until Mica had to pet at her hair to escape overstimulation. She crawled back up to lie next to her, grinning triumphantly at the way Mica’s legs collapsed and her still-quick breaths.

“As always, Ms. Turney, you are the best at what you do.”

“You flatter me.”

“No, seriously, dude. That was some bomb-ass cunnilingus.” 

“Oh my god, do not use the full word in the bedroom. So not sexy.”

“Who cares? I got mine, I’m going to sleep.” Meg snorted. “For real, though. Get those off and come sit on my face.”

“That I can do!” Meg quickly stripped off her last item of clothing and got herself into position. Mica had never not had that part of the equation go somewhat awkwardly, but there were minimal giggles this time, and this was definitely better than the time when a girl had straight-up fallen off of the bed and kicked Mica in the face.

Now, though, Mica could concentrate fully on the warm, wet slide of Meg’s pussy, and the way she ground into her carefully, giving her enough time and space to breathe, but just barely. Meg was a lot more vocal with direct stimulation, and Mica took each noise she made as encouragement.

Meg didn’t last very long, and both of them let out contented sighs when she was done. Mica wiped her face on the bedspread and pulled Meg in for cuddles.

“We are the best,” said Meg, “at both crime and sex.”

“Someone should give us a medal.” 

“I’m just happy you took the hint. What did you think I invited you to sleep over for?”

“You were not slick following me on like every training mission I had.”

“I taught you lots.”

Mica poked at Meg’s ribs, making her squeal and starting a tickle fight that lasted until they gave up and fell asleep in an exhausted heap. 

It had been a good day.

-

The next morning, Meg woke Mica at seven, which she protested by pulling a pillow over her face until Meg pointed out that they wanted to catch Lindsay before the nine o’clock crew Monday meeting and they needed time to do their makeup.

Both of them fought amiably over the bathroom mirror until they were pleased with their results. Meg dressed in some of Mica’s clothes.

“Normally I bring my own outfits to sleepovers, but I trusted that you would have something legitimately fashionable for me to wear.”

“Meg, I think that’s one of the nicest compliments you’ve ever given me. Actually, I think that’s one of the nicest things anyone’s ever said to me in my life.” 

Meg kissed her and went to grab the ruby, which they’d decided to carry in a plastic bag to downplay its value. 

It felt silly to be obeying traffic laws while carrying a stolen gem, but the last thing they needed was a ticket. It’d only make them late.

The doorman that had so intimidated Mica when she first saw him nodded when he saw the two of them.

“Hey, Edward.”

“Morning, Mica.”

Mica and Meg had been there for about five minutes when Lindsay walked in, glued to her phone as usual. She clicked it off when she saw them, though, and gave them a quizzical smile.

“Might I help you?” 

Mica brought forward the bag, and handed it to Lindsay, who nearly dropped it from the unexpected weight. She pulled it out, a little confused.

“That’s for you,” said Mica. “Um, it’s the world’s largest crystal ruby.”

“And someone carved it into a turd,” Meg cut in. “We stole it from the museum yesterday. I say we, but Mica was incredible. She’s a fantastic actress and she’s quick on her feet.”

“So we thought you’d like this,” finished Mica. Lindsay glanced between the two of them.

“Are you guys trying to kiss my ass?”

“Maybe a little,” Mica admitted. It didn’t seem like Lindsay was mad, but she still braced herself just in case.

“If you really wanted to kiss my ass, you should have brought me with you. I’m a person, guys.” Meg and Mica looked at each other guiltily. “But this _is_ pretty awesome. And I am impressed with your work.”

“Thanks, boss.”

“You’re not even in this crew, Meg. Get outta here.” Meg gave Lindsay a hug and headed for the elevators, blowing Mica a kiss as the doors shut. 

Lindsay turned to Mica. “What do you say you and I go out and get coffee sometime?”

“That sounds great.”

“For now…” Lindsay held the ruby up into the light. “This is getting a place of honor. Hell, I might replace Jack with this thing.”

Mica wasn’t sure if she was dating Meg, or if this stunt had really done anything to help her place in the crew, or hell, what the limits of her immortality were; but she was sure that she was having the time of her life.

**Author's Note:**

> That ruby is 100% real and 100% incredible. ([story](http://www.vice.com/read/carving-rubies-into-poo-the-mark-mothersbaugh-art-retrospective-456)) ([image](http://imgur.com/gallery/AbFwzfN))
> 
> Hope y'all enjoyed the fic! Shoutout to @realthighcrew on tumblr for inspiring me to write it, and to ShipperOfALLDemShips on ao3 (I'm pretty sure) for watching and commenting. 
> 
> Check me out on tumblr @givemeyourprincesses!


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